Dollhouse
by Gray Doll
Summary: The doll was a stupid liar. Surely it was.


**Notes: **This is probably one of the very few times I've actually used the canon RJ in a story. I have to admit, it's a novelty (well, for me). I should warn you though; this story is DARK. I mean it, people. If this is not your cup of tea, feel free to skip this.

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**Dollhouse**

Lily McAllister was always getting dolls.

Her daddy knew she loved them, and was willing to go to great lengths to spoil her – with the excuse that it wasn't going to her head, because by all accounts, she was a sweet, kind, proper little girl who was always generous and friendly. Everyone knew it.

For her seventh birthday, Lily received a very special doll.

Her father had no qualms about buying very expensive, delicate dolls for her, because Lily treated each and every one of them with the utmost care and respect, and was very protective of them. She wanted all of them to stay safe and sound, and she knew daddy boasted her responsibility to whoever would listen, which was almost everyone he ran into (or at least that's what Lily always thought).

The doll she was given was nearly her height, maybe half an inch shorter than her. It had a pretty, plump face that looked a little like her own – or at least, how Lily hoped her face would look like in a few years. It wore a red tulle dress with beautiful white flowers all over it, and a gigantic bow the shape of a rose around its waist. Long, blond curls hung down its back, and she had bangs long enough to cover her eyes.

"No offense, Sheriff," the mayor muttered, having observed the doll a day after Lily had received it, "but it's a little creepy, don't you think?"

Sheriff McAllister twitched his hands a little nervously. "I know. The picture on the website looked much... _happier_. It didn't look so..."

"Fucking scary?"

Lily had brightly thanked her father for her wonderful doll, but there was a part of her, tiny and weak-voiced, that echoed the mayor's sentiments. Eventually she blamed the slight uneasiness she felt on the fact that the doll's eyes were not visible because they were hidden by the bangs.

Lily was tempted to brush the hair away from the doll's face, to reassure herself that everything was just fine about it, but found that she couldn't. Instead she placed it on a pile of cushions at the corner of her bedroom, as far away from her bed as possible, and though it sounded crazy even to herself, didn't get too close to it when her father was absent.

A few hours after having given her doll its own place, she decided to name it Annie. It was, to Lily, a really pretty name. And despite her slight unease towards Annie, she made honest (and cautious) attempts to treat her like all her other dolls.

At first it wasn't so hard.

But about five days after Annie's arrival, the dreams started.

Beautiful trees with pretty pink flowers in full bloom were watered with dark red rain. A little girl in a white dress sat on a piano, her nimble fingers flying over the keys. Music mingled with the hiss of a barely-escaped breath. The feeling of light-headedness. The beady eyes of a teddy bear looking sad and watery as everything went dark-

Lily did not scream when she woke up.

She had tried, or at least she thought she had. But she felt so out of breath.

Annie was sitting on her cushions in the corner. Staring at her.

Lily was a good girl, and didn't want to offend her father by implying she felt anything but love for Annie and gratitude towards him for giving her the doll. So she continued to keep Annie in her room, instead of placing her somewhere else.

However, when night came and daddy tucked her into bed, kissed her goodnight and left the room, Lily waited a few minutes, quietly scrambled out of the bed and walked over to Annie, then gently turned the doll to face the pink-colored wall.

But she dreamed again.

She was sitting on her bed, she and Annie kneeling on the mattress across from each other. Slowly, Annie's straight-line mouth curled up into a small, eerie smile. Lily stared at her, her hands folded neatly on her lap, and waited for the doll to speak.

And speak she did.

"He's going to kill you," Annie whispered, her voice a soft little chime. "You're going to die. Just like I did. He's going to kill you, but I think it'll be much worse than he did me."

Lily blinked. "Who?"

The doll tilted her head to the side. "Your daddy."

"Dads don't hurt their kids." Lily's protest was meek, and she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that slowly took hold of her.

Annie shook her head, almost mournfully, but her smile was still in place. "Mine wouldn't. But yours will, I'm sure of it. Daddies let their children die all the time, some of them just do it themselves."

Lily swallowed. "Well, you're a doll. You can't have died."

Annie placed her hand on top of hers, and her skin was so cold it make goosebumps erupt where she touched Lily. "When you die, you'll become a doll as well. Just like me."

Lily woke up screaming.

The next morning, Lily threw Annie in her closet. She thought about telling her father what had happened, how Annie had said all those things to her and scared her. Of course it was all nonsense. Daddy would never hurt her.

Lily knew Annie was a stupid liar.


End file.
